Embracing the Scorpion
by UNKNOWNYMUSE
Summary: It was a tense, excruciating minutes before the clock turns eleven o'clock in the evening. She made her decision. There's no going back now. "Turn the Scorpion, and you shall see." A compendium of What if: Christine chooses to stay with Erik, as his living bride. Leroux-verse told in 155 words of drabbles.
1. I

**I**

The Wedding Ring.

* * *

Tears had flown like the Seine River down to her pale cheeks.

He was crying, and she was too, she did not know whose tears were the most.

He knelt down in front of her.

He kissed the hem of her dress.

He cried louder, adding to the vast despair of her sorrow.

Erik was treating her like a fragile Goddess. She isn't.

She wanted to stop him, but she was numb, her body was numb and weak with various emotions, ceasing her thoughts and actions. She stood still, crystal tears raining down, ready to dissolve in the cold, despairing air.

She'd almost forgotten the ring if she hadn't clenched her fist. It sparkled through the darkness.

She finally moves, groggily joining him on the ground. She puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking off his delusional reverie. Her voice was hoarse, yet strong. He has to believe.

 _"I am not leaving you."_

* * *

 **UNKNOWNYMUSE:**

 **Yes, I know, I'm still in the 'Denial Stage'.**

 **This will be basically short arrangements on the aftermath of the book, IF Christine chooses to stay with The Phantom.**

 **DISCLAIMER: PLEASE STOP ASSUMING THAT I OWN THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (AS MUCH I WOULD LIKE TO), IT ALL BELONGS TO MONSIEUR GASTON LEROUX. SO NO LAWSUIT REQUIRED.**

 **THIS IS JUST A** **WHAT IF** **STORY.**

 **FOR MY LOVELY PHANS ;)**


	2. II

**II**

Not Dead.

* * *

There was once a time he was called The Daroga.

It is not certainly a name, but a title in his country. He was a royal guard of the Shah, and it meant to do everything the Shah-in-Shah's bidding.

There was once a young man named Erik.

And the Shah wanted him dead.

The Daroga had seen the misfortune of Erik, and he believed that he was more than a loathsome monster he prefers to be.

And that belief had cost him banishment upon helping the genius Erik to escape.

The Persian looked at the window of his compartment. It was weeks after the tragedy of the Opera Populaire and of his postponed demise.

Erik had visited him some time ago. Informing him of the unbelievable, and said his last Goodbyes.

He knew that Erik is now happy, somewhere, where only love can reside. With his cherished wife.

The Phantom is dead.

 _And Erik lives._


	3. III

**III**

Heaven in Hell.

* * *

He was still staring at her from across the room. Those gleaming eyes resonated with adoration and disbelief throughout the penumbra.

She went with him. Refusing to run away with her Beau. He gave her freedom, and yet she chooses to be damned.

It is out of fear.

He thought. The dismal words kept repeating inside his mind. Who would in their sane nous to willingly follow a creature of inferno, much less to the Devil's child? She chose him because of terror. How could she be frightened at him? When he is the one to be afraid of her; He will do anything for her. He is her slave, ready to obey her every whim.

But something in her eyes spoke her judgment. She did truly go with him to her own accord. He desperately wanted to hold on to that impossible conclusion.

After all, she is the immaculate Angel in his personal Hell.


	4. IV

**IV**

Fear and Love.

* * *

She smiles up at him; and she received a tender, shy smile in return. Only the scowl was forming inside her head, why does he mistrust her decision? It was _her_ decision to stay; it was _her_ decision to be with him, it's all solely based on _her_ decision.

He was looking at her with such melancholic intensity, as if he's afraid that she'll vanish amongst the unforgiving air. She wave up a delicate hand for him to know that he'll never have to be lonely again.

She's his wife now.

She will pour him with care, affection, and undying love.

Love.

She hadn't expected herself to love him like that. At first, she was afraid of him, not because of his deteriorated visage. She was not vain to mind for beauty, but it's his misdeeds and madness where his true ugliness lies.

All in the Past.

She'll never leave his side from now on.


	5. V

**V**

Hades's Persephone.

* * *

Softly, he sang her a lullaby. It was not sad or partially happy; you would define it as an abysmal bliss. His voice is the only beauty of his many horrors.

She drifted like a fallen autumn leaf; slowly, gently, and angelically. Her presence brought sheer joy to him that he wept, how could a monster be so fortunate for him to have a divine being by his side? He must be dreaming. Lucidly.

She was the very hearth of his home.

The gem of his Kingdom.

An ethereal maiden of his forsaken land.

She is his everything.

And no gargoyle shall be this golden. It is unfavorable to the heaven above. Could there be such a celestial place? In all his life, he was rejected of happiness, devoid of normality. Why now taste the sensation of eternal reward? When he'd cheated, lied, and killed.

It doesn't matter now; she is his live Elysian fields.


	6. VI

**VI**

Sanctum.

* * *

Marbled floors, ornamented walls, and eye catching draperies. They were still small necessities, yet it astounds her to see much grandeur inside _their_ house.

"A nice, simple house." He casually said.

Christine clicked her tongue to stop her incoming argument, this is not simple, and it is screaming _Royalty_ at her. And it was a very, far cry for entitling it as a house.

How could he afford all of these? She did not know, but knowing her husband's demanding corpulent wages of his former misdeeds, she didn't ask. He promised he will change for good.

"Do, Christine, not like it?"

She shook her head, and strides towards him, not caring the proper etiquette for a lady should be doing. Christine embraces him lovingly, and she felt him tensed before relaxing. "It is wonderful. This is our new home."

"Our home." He solemnly said, tasting the blessed words in his mouth.

Their Home.


	7. VII

**VII**

Marital Matters.

* * *

"Honestly! This is frustrating!"

"Come now, don't screech like a wild banshee."

"Or what? Afraid I will lose my voice?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll scream at my heart's content!"

"Don't be foolish."

"You're the one who's foolish!"

"Yet here you are, acting like a rampant child."

"You're the one sneakily avoiding our main argument!"

A pause.

"I believe it is for your own sake."

"We're married! For goodness sake!"

"Still I will protect you — from myself."

"I know you won't harm me."

"Not in a violent way, that is."

A wild blush spread on her face, "It is natural for us to do certain activities."

"I can't dishonor you."

"Am I not pleasing for you?"

A dark, grimly laugh escaped his mouth, "Why do you ask an insipid question? Look at me and you will see the unpleasantness."

"Don't say that."

"It is true."

"Please, Erik, stay here with me."

A sigh of surrender.

"Alright."


	8. VIII

**VIII**

Sweet Torment.

* * *

He could not sleep.

 _No_ , he cannot sleep.

Exhaustion was unacceptable, and the Sandman didn't grant him any of his nightly visits. Drowsiness couldn't put up a fight.

Even if he wanted to, he can't just fall asleep.

It is all too different— everything is profoundly unfamiliar.

Erik wasn't used to sleeping in a comfy, feathered bed, No, he didn't even own a bed.

His coffin was his refuge.

Dear Christine made sure that no materials of the past shall be ever welcome in their new home. She strictly look him at the eyes, and he astutely knew what she meant; the coffin.

He would _might_ be at ease if he's lying on a normal bed, surrounded by hollow and darkness. _No_ , he thought the God above was torturing him for his sins.

He felt a soft breathing beside him.

His wife. His Christine was beside him, slumbering tenderly.

It must be an anguishing dream.


	9. IX

**UNKNOWNYMUSE: I present you 210 words of this Chapter.**

* * *

 **IX**

Walls and Barriers.

* * *

Crystal blue eyes stared at the livid ceiling.

She was in deep thinking - wistful, unrelenting thoughts overshadowing her visions as such. The room was pitch black, and she somehow knew it was still around midnight. She hadn't gotten any restful sleep. She could not bring herself to slumber when a certain problem still lingers about in the depths of her mind. There was a piece of burden inside the midst of her heart that cannot be ridden.

And _said_ problem was the shadow beside her.

She knew he was awake; the serious precision that he hadn't been sleeping - his glowing eyes were evidence themselves. And he'd been stiff. Refusing to touch her, or even a lithe contact from Christine he'll recoil and sought for her forgiveness. As if she's the plague and deity at the same time.

She scowls. He is caught up in his own sanctum that his barriers were hard to topple; he made his walls for anyone not to pass. Forbidding everyone to enter. Even her.

His fear of mankind made him so. The hatred. The pain. All of his demise.

But she was not the _mankind_. She was Christine, and she'll destroy his entire exterior with the aid of her patience and love.


	10. X

**X**

Timeless Restraint.

* * *

She was a good wife.

No, a perfect wife.

He woke up to find her sweet, torturous embrace as her arms were around him. Securely. Protectively. A parallelism of his vulnerability against her. As if it were she'll fight for his side. He was even surprise that he'd fell asleep - more stupefaction when an angel was with him. A crucial affirmation that he was not dreaming it all.

His mask had dampened again. _Curses_. She made him feel weak, and with utter pain of thinking ardent thoughts about her. Every day would be like this; just like any other man and his woman. But he was not like everybody else. He's a monster.

Oh how he longed to be normal.

Yet his dear Christine was still beside him. Dreaming of beautiful castles; a handsome prince; the bright sun looking down her pretty face. And those dreams will crumble once she awoke from her slumber.


End file.
